.
Oh my goodness, there you are again Blind Willie Mctell. Why is it that you always find me when I am in the most dire need of someone pure and primeval? There is no better bluesman I can think of. Your only competitor to my mind is Hank. You make me feel as if someone were once out there grasping for the stars and trapping moonlight in jars for all to be enlightened by.
Paul Bowles understood the comforts of a Jalaba and the beauty of Morocco some time before I did. He was also a much better writer than I am. But what happened to his wife? She was also an incredible writer. Her stories and novel are like living dreams. Why did he never come back from Morocco? Actually, once you go then you will understand.
Julian, I have now been to Casablanca and let me tell you something: your 11th dimension and all your alien parallels are more magical than ever. I feel like this song could literally transport all of mankind to a new and slightly more pleasent dimension beyond our stars. At least it does every time I listen to it.
I’m going down to the place tonight
To see if I can get a taste tonight
A taste of something warm and sweet
That shivers your bones and rises to your heat
I’m going down to the place tonight
The damp and hungry place tonight
Should all the stars shine in the sky
They couldn’t outshine your sparkling eyes
But it’s so hard to be the one
To touch and tease and to do it all for fun
But it’s too much for a young heart to take
Cause hearts are the easiest things you could break
And I talk to the filth and I walk to the door
I’m knee deep in myself
But I want to get more of that stuff
Of that stuff
Some candy talking
Talk
And I want
And I want
Some candy talking
Some candy talk
I love the way she’s walking
I love the way she’s talking
It’s just the way she’s walking
It’s just the way she’s talking
And I need
All that stuff
Give me some
Of that stuff
I want your candy. I want your candy
And I need
Give me some
Of your stuff
Give me some
I want your candy. I want your candy.
I want your candy. I want your candy.
I want stuff
Stately, calm and ready for time to rip and reveal a bright new page.
“The Enemy”
My youth has been nothing but a tenebrous storm,
Pierced now and then by rays of brilliant sunshine;
Thunder and rain have wrought so much havoc
That very few ripe fruits remain in my garden.
I have already reached the autumn of the mind,
And I must set to work with the spade and the rake
To gather back the inundated soil
In which the rain digs holes as big as graves.
And who knows whether the new flowers I dream of
Will find in this earth washed bare like the strand,
The mystic aliment that would give them vigor?
Alas! Alas! Time eats away our lives,
And the hidden Enemy who gnaws at our hearts
Grows by drawing strength from the blood we lose!
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
“Evil Fate”
To lift a weight so heavy,
Would take your courage, Sisyphus!
Although one’s heart is in the work,
Art is long and Time is short.
Far from famous sepulchers
Toward a lonely cemetery
My heart, like muffled drums,
Goes beating funeral marches.
Many a jewel lies buried
In darkness and oblivion,
Far, far away from picks and drills;
Many a flower regretfully
Exhales perfume soft as secrets
In a profound solitude.
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
A spider web of perfect exactness wherein days of the dead uncoil, ripple, and resonate. Still recoiling from its barb wire precision. Read it in a sitting. I’m not saying I connected all the dots. I’ll leave that to the stars.
If this feline jumps over the dead, it can inhabit the body. When released, this cat is five feet tall and walks upon its hind legs.
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